


Scott Moir and the Very Strange, Mysteriously Magical (Totally True) Bad Dream

by soshedances



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Scott Moir being sappy on main, a load of cracky fandom references, also featuring: mutual pining, and everyone’s favourite snarky black cat, with cameo appearances by some skating friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soshedances/pseuds/soshedances
Summary: Scott gets the sniffles and starts seeing things that can't possibly be real...OrTessa inherits a house, and a few unexpected powers along with it...A 90s Sabrina the Teenage Witch AU





	1. A Sniffle and A Sneeze

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Spooky Season Y'all!
> 
> This is my first attempt at an AU and any mistakes are my own. The premise of is based loosely on Sabrina the Teenage Witch S1 E13 (Jenny's Non-Dream), but with a twist or two to keep things interesting! 
> 
> A big thanks to Boo for her endless support and encouragement!

It starts with a sneeze. Followed by another, and another.

“Allergies,” he grumbles as he pours more coffee into his travel mug and heads out the door.

Next it’s the sniffles, his nose turning into a leaky faucet in the chilly air of the arena.

“Must be the change of seasons,” he offers when Marie-France hands him a tissue across the boards, accompanied by a serious serving of side-eye.

“I gave my vocal chords a good work out today,” he jokes as his last group of students leaves the ice. At least he tries to, but it comes out as more of a croak, his voice catching and cracking on the end like a prepubescent boy.

By the time he arrives on Tessa’s doorstep for Friday pizza and movie night, Scott is forced to admit that he is feeling decidedly under the weather. He contemplates cancelling, but he doesn’t want to disturb their carefully crafted routine for a common cold. He just needs a few extra tissues in his pocket and then he’ll have everything under control!

He does, until Tessa answers the door.

She’s decked out from head to toe in a black leather and mesh combination that makes his head start to spin. He doesn’t know where to look first. The sheer sleeves billowing in the light breeze, the plunging V neckline that finishes just above her belly button, or the strategically placed cutouts that trail delicately across her hip bones and down the side of each leg. Her hair is piled high on her head, the length of her neck accentuated by a black and silver choker. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look this... sinister? seductive? And that includes a full season of Carmen...

He’s not sure which description is more fitting, or more importantly, why she’s dressed up when it’s pizza night. He opens his mouth to ask as much, when a large sneeze takes him by surprise and he doubles over.

When he rights himself, he finds Tessa standing in front of him in leggings and a faded Rolling Stones t-shirt, a look of concern plastered across her face.

“What?!” He squeaks out. “How did you-“ He sneezes again. “It’s Friday right?”

“Yes, it’s Friday...” Tessa answers, taking a step out onto the porch as he rubs at his eyes. “Scott, are you okay?”

“Mmmhmmm!” He hums in response. “Just my allergies acting up! Change of seasons, you know?” He cringes as his voice breaks at the end.

She eyes him up and down in disbelief. “Uh huh. That’s definitely why you sound like you’re sixteen again. Let’s get you inside before you get any worse!”

“Sixteen?! My ego is wounded Virtch!” He shakes his head as he follows her into the house, still trying to clear his mind of the very vivid image of Tessa in black leather that he was certain had been standing before him moments ago. If he’s started hallucinating then maybe this is a bit more than allergies.

“Considering you didn’t hit puberty until 20, I thought I was being pretty generous!” She calls out as she wanders into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home, I’ll order the pizza.”

He does just that, slipping off his coat and shoes before sinking into the corner of the couch and wrapping one of the plush throws around himself. He closes his eyes for a moment, pondering whether Tess will take pity on him and let him choose the movie even though it’s technically her turn this week.

He’s deep into a debate between the merits of Bloodsport or something more seasonally appropriate like Hocus Pocus when he feels the cushions shift behind him. He turns his head, expecting to find Tessa sitting next to him, and instead comes face to face with a very different pair of golden green eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment, and then the cat in question turns, smacking him in the face with a long black tail as it leaps off the back of the couch and disappears into the hall.

“Hey T!” He rasps out. “Did you get a cat without telling me?” He really hopes this isn’t another hallucination.

“Oh, you met Salem then?” Tessa rounds the corner, a steaming mug in her hand. “I made you something for your throat, it should help you sound a bit more like a man.” She has the audacity to wink at him as she passes over the mug and settles onto the other end of the couch.

“Salem?”

“The cat. He’s a friend of the family, and no, I did not adopt him without telling you. He’s just staying with me for the week.”

He takes a sip from the mug and somehow manages not to gag. It’s bitter and still a little too hot to drink, but he’s learned by now not to refuse any of Tessa’s cold fighting concoctions - they‘re never tasty, but they always help.

“Thanks,” he nods at the tea in acknowledgement before taking another sip. “I can feel whatever this is working its magic already.” He means it to be polite, but he also notices that talking hurts less than it did before he started drinking, so he can’t be all that wrong.

Tessa chuckles. “No magic Scott, just the right mix of herbs and a good old fashioned spoonful of honey.”

Salem chooses this moment to reappear, hopping up onto the arm of the chair next to Tessa, who absentmindedly scratches behind his ears.

“I have to say, I never really pegged you as the black cat type, T. At least not with all this white furniture and your many superstitions.”

He’s pretty sure the cat glares at him in response, but Tessa just rolls her eyes and laughs.

“I know it’s not the most practical, but it’s nothing a little vacuuming can’t handle. And I’m not that superstitious!”

They fall into an easy conversation from there. He updates her on the latest locker room shenanigans and general Gadbois gossip (the juniors ganging up to prank Zach Donahue may have been the highlight of his week), while she fills him in on the ups and downs of her most recent MBA project. They drift closer together as they chat, and he admires how Tessa’s eyes light up as she rambles on about a photo shoot she did last week and how excited she is to share it. She’s just pulling up the files on her laptop to show him when three things happen in quick succession.

Salem decides that he’s had quite enough of the couch and tries to make the leap from the arm he’s been occupying to the coffee table. He narrowly misses, but manages to upend the remaining contents of Scott’s mug onto the pristine surface, sending them streaming towards Tessa’s laptop just as the doorbell chimes.

Tessa scoops her computer out of the path of danger as she heads for the door, yelling over her shoulder. “Divide and conquer - I’ve got the pizza!”

Scott swears he can hear Salem cackling from under the table as he shoots up, but then his head is spinning and well, cats can’t laugh anyway can they?

He waits for the world to stop swaying before stepping into the kitchen in search of something to wipe up the mess. There’s no paper towels or tissues in sight, and he can’t spot any dish clothes or regular towels either. He can still hear Tessa talking to the delivery boy, so he decides to seek out the linen closet on his own.

He hasn’t spent as much time in this new house as he’d prefer, but he does remember that the closet is just to the right at the top of the stairs. Tessa had moved in about a month ago, having fallen in love at first sight with the character of the grand Victorian style home (“It has a turret Scott! I can have my own turret!”). She’d inherited it from some distant relative that he’d never heard of - Hilda? Zelda? Or maybe it was Hilda and Zelda? Either way, he thought it was a bit absurd to keep a house with so much space for only one person, but if it meant his best friend was putting down roots in Montréal, then who was he to argue?

His head is pounding by the time he reaches the second floor landing and he makes a mental note to ask Tessa if she has a Tylenol once he cleans up this mess. Skirting around the laundry basket, he opens the cupboard door and is grateful to see that his memory hasn’t failed him as he’s greeted by stacks of towels and sheets. He’s reaching for pile of dish clothes when he hears a singsong voice from behind him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…”

Scott whips around, looking for the source, but all he finds is Salem perched on the banister.

“Did you just speak?” He asks the cat, who seems to be watching him with a head tilt that conveys a great deal of judgement. Salem remains silent.

“Of course you didn’t. I must be losing it,” he mumbles out loud as he turns back to the cupboard.

“No really, I wouldn’t go in there. You never know what can happen in a linen closet…”

Scott turns around slowly this time, but Salem is still the only one there. He makes eye contact with the cat and watches a devious smirk spread across it’s face.

“BOO!”

He jumps backwards towards the open cupboard as Salem laughs.

“Oh Scott, you should see the look on your face!”

The cat is speaking. The cat is speaking and laughing at him. The cat is speaking and laughing at him and he really is beginning to wonder whether he’s gone stark raving mad. Maybe this is just a weird dream courtesy of the allergy medication he took? That has to be the only logical explanation for all of this. If he pinches himself, he’ll wake up and everything will go back to normal.

He closes his eyes and pinches the skin between his thumb and index finger hard enough for his nails to leave an indent. When he opens them again, he finds he’s still standing in the linen closet, with Salem now sprawled across the lid of the laundry basket.

“Did that trip down de Nile work for you?” The cat inquires, “or are you going to listen to my advice now?”

Scott shakes his head in disbelief. “Does Tessa know you can speak?”

“Irrelevant. The better question is, does Tessa know you’re up here, snooping in this closet?”

“I’m not snooping!” He protests. “I just need something to wipe up the tea you spilled. Tess won’t mind, she’s busy collecting the pizza.”

“The tea I spilled?” He didn’t know until this moment that a cat could sound indignant. “Wait, did you mention pizza?”

Scott nods. “Friday night is always pizza night.”

“Well in that case, towels are on that shelf to the left, faaaar at the back.”

He reaches to collect the towels in question and the door slams shut behind him. The last thing he hears as a cloud of smoke erupts around him is the sound of maniacal laughter and the faint echo of “more pizza for me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Have questions? Want to discuss your undying love for Salem Saberhagen? Yell at me below, or on any of the social medias @ soshedances18!


	2. Side Effects May Vary

“Have a nice evening!”

Tessa twists the deadbolt into place and then rests her back against the door. She needs a moment to collect herself before she takes the pizza back to her company. Partially because the delivery man had been more chatty than he had any right to (and maybe even a little bit flirtatious?), but mostly because it had been a bit of a week. Actually, make that a month. It had been one hell of a month.

She hadn’t spoken to her father or his extended family in a number of years, so it came as a great surprise when she received a call from her lawyer saying that she had inherited a house. Apparently her great aunts Hilda and Zelda (both of whom she has zero recollection of ever meeting), had bequeathed it to her in their will. Neither of them ever had children, and tradition supposedly dictated that the house be passed to the youngest female relative of legal age, thus Tessa became the lucky recipient.

She was equal parts shocked and relieved to learn that the home was located in a suburb of Montréal mere minutes away from where she was already living. When she laid eyes on the immaculate grounds for the first time, she was delighted to discover that it was everything she could’ve dreamed of in a Victorian home - lots of natural light, pristine hardwood floors, an extensive library, a wrap around porch and a even a turret! Scott had laughed at how quickly she’d been taken with the place, commenting that it was almost too good to be true, but he had helped her move nonetheless.

It turns out, Scott was kind of right. What her lawyer had failed to mention was that taking ownership of the house came with a few... conditions. Mind you, she’s not sure she would’ve believed him even if he had been honest.

_ Hey Tessa, just FYI, agreeing to live in this house might have some side effects like, oh, I don’t know, granting you magical powers and turning you into a witch? _

Yeah, there’s no way she would’ve believed him.

The pizza boxes are hot enough that they start to burn against her bare arms, interrupting her train of thought. Letting out a deep sigh, she pushes off the door frame and heads towards the kitchen where she hopes she’ll find both Scott and some plates for their food. 

The kitchen is just as pristine as she left it, with the exception of Scott’s now empty mug on the counter. She frowns when there’s no sight of him, then remembers the mess in the living room that he’s meant to be cleaning up. She really needs to have a word with Salem about his lack of acrobatic abilities before he actually breaks something, but that will have to wait until Scott is safely out of earshot. 

Tessa pulls down a couple of plates from the cupboard and sets them on top of the first pizza box. She contemplates putting the second pizza in the oven to keep it warm, but knowing her culinary luck it would be more of a fire hazard than anything else. Unless…

The idea of using magic is still so new that it makes her nervous, but not quite as nervous as leaving her oven unattended. She was shocked that she’d managed to pull off a wardrobe change with a single finger snap when Scott had surprised her earlier, but she won’t say it didn’t boost her confidence. 

A buzz of excitement hums through her body as she carefully considers her options. Nothing that involves fire, or excessive heat in general. Maybe a holding spell of some sort that would simply maintain the pizza’s current state? 

Stepping back, she focuses her attention on the box in question before closing her eyes. She envisions eating a slice at the ideal temperature - just gooey enough for the cheese to pull into strings, but not so hot that it burns the roof of her mouth - and then allows that sensation to trickle down her arms to her fingertips as she snaps with both hands. 

When Tessa opens her eyes, the pizza box is levitating ever so slightly off the counter. She hovers her hand across the top and feels a very gentle, consistent heat radiating off of all sides. Feeling almost giddy with success, she allows herself a silent victory dance before scooping up the other box and making her way into the living room.

She rounds the corner and is stopped in her tracks by an absolute chaos. The remnants of Scott’s tea from earlier has begun to settle into sticky pools on the table top, the blanket and throw pillows are strewn across the floor, and most importantly, there’s no sign of Scott. 

“Scott?” She calls out. “Where are you?”

There’s no verbal response, just a door slamming upstairs followed by what she really hopes isn’t the sound of Salem breaking the vase on her bedside table.

“Scott?”

She tries again.

“Salem?”

She sets down the pizza box and pivots, backtracking to make sure she hadn’t missed him in the downstairs powder room. He’d clearly been into the kitchen while she answered to door, so why hadn’t he–

“No!” She gasps, and her heart plummets to her stomach as she runs to the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

She’d had a mishap that morning, the concluding paragraph of an essay and a severe lack of coffee distracting her long enough for the sink full of dishes to overflow. She’d used just about every dry object in sight to mop up the mess (in hindsight she probably could’ve used magic), but hadn’t replaced any of the towels and OF COURSE Scott wouldn’t have any second thoughts about retrieving clean ones from the linen closet. 

She skids to a stop at the top of the landing, nearly tripping over Salem in the process.

“Salem, have you seen Scott?”

The cat tilts his head, bats his eyelashes and utters the most pitiful attempt at a “meow” she thinks she’s ever heard.

“That was terrible. Kittens could do better! If I can’t find Scott then he definitely can’t hear you, so cut the fake cat act and use your words!”

“My my, someone is grouchy! Didn’t your aunts ever teach you that flattery is always more successful than insults when it comes to getting what you want?”

He flutters his eyelashes and meows loudly once more before jumping onto the lid of the laundry basket and staring her down. 

She huffs out an apology that she most definitely does not have time for. “Your cat impression is magnificent and you sound just like the real thing. Now tell me, where is Scott? This house is too big to play hide & seek. Have you seen him?”

“Perhaps. Where’s the pizza?”

“Downstairs. Wait, how did you know there was pizza?”

“Scott mentioned it, right before he went into the linen closet.”

Tessa lets out a slow, controlled breath and tries not to panic any further before asking her next question. “Did you speak to Scott?”

“Maybe... He needed help finding towels to clean up the mess he claimed that I made, which I think is deeply unfair-”

“Salem Saberhagen! You know you’re not allowed to speak to mortals! I can’t even tell Scott that I’m a witch or that magic exists - this is a disaster!”

“Well, since it can’t possibly get any worse, I should probably tell you that the door to the closet mysteriously closed, all on its own! So if you’re looking for Scott, he’s in The Other Realm…”

She flings open the cupboard door and sure enough, it’s empty. She glares at Salem as she backs into the cupboard, snapping her fingers so that she’s once again dressed in her intimidating black witch’s garb.

“Consider this your warning, because if I find out that you shut that door and intentionally sent Scott to The Other Realm, your parole officer WILL hear about it and I will be very, very angry. I suggest you hide while you still have the chance.”

With that, she pulls the door shut. As a puff of smoke surrounds her, Tessa hopes with every fibre of her being that she can find Scott before it's too late...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's in more trouble when Tessa finds them - Scott or Salem? 
> 
> The wait for Chapter 3 won’t be a long one!


	3. How Low Can You Go?

When the smoke clears, Scott finds himself somewhere else entirely. His ears are ringing and a weird purple haze lingers around the edges of the room, or maybe it’s a garden?

There are elaborate flower displays as far as his eyes can see, but the scent wafting towards him isn’t floral. He takes a deep breath and is overwhelmed by the crisp air that he usually associates with an arena. Spinning around, he expects to see a clean sheet of ice stretching out in front of him. Instead he spots a pair of chairs centred in front of a video screen, which shows one image after another of increasingly familiar European cityscapes. The screen shifts to a giant ISU logo just as the ringing in his ears finally fades away. It’s replaced immediately with the sound of Aaron Carter enthusiastically singing “I Want Candy” over and over and over again, and Scott sinks into one of the chairs with a groan of defeat.

A kiss and cry. One minute he was in Tessa’s linen closet, and now he’s in a kiss and cry. Not just any kiss and cry mind you, but an amalgamation of all of his least favourite features. Flowers that make him sneeze, separate arm chairs instead of a bench, a nightmarish reminder of his disappointment in Helsinki on a loop behind him and now this SONG! He can feel the residual anxiety and adrenaline from Pyeongchang even now. 

Dropping his head to his hands, he massages his temples and tries to think. If he got here (where ever here is) through Tessa’s linen closet, then surely there must be a similar doorway that could lead him back. He sits up to assess his surroundings for a second time. The flower displays stretch out before him, the screen forms a solid wall behind him and to his right there’s more of that mysterious purple fog. To his left, however, he spots a low wooden frame with one long bar cradled by two supporting beams. He stands to investigate and is surprised when he sees a familiar person appearing from beneath it. 

“Chiddy! Never have I been so happy to see you!” He throws his arms around his friend. “Wait, did you get here through Tessa’s closet too? I didn’t even know you were in Montreal!”

It takes him a moment to realise that Chiddy isn’t reciprocating his hug and he steps back to find a puzzled look on the other man’s face. 

“Patrick?”

The other man shakes his head and with a snap of his fingers, a business card appears in his hand. 

Scott jumps a little at the sight of such clear magic, but accepts the card when it’s handed to him. He reads the title out loud. 

“Skippy, the Overlord’s Underling.”

Skippy doffs his hat with with a little flourish and a bow.

“Well then, It’s nice to meet you Skippy. Are you able to speak?”

Skippy shakes his head once more, a frown crossing his face as he coughs twice, before presenting his hand for Scott to examine. He hears a soft ribbit and his suspicions are confirmed as he peers into Skippy’s palm.

“Oh! You have a frog in your throat! I mean, I know I sound awfully croaky myself, but I guess I should be grateful that mine isn’t real!”

Skippy nods in agreement before setting the frog on the floor to hop away. Scott decides to try a different line of questioning.

“I’m not really sure how I got here, or uh, where exactly here is. Would you happen to know?”

Skippy raises his eyebrows in surprise before gesturing to the direction he came from. Shimmying his shoulders as he gracefully arches backwards, he bends lower and lower as he walks towards the bar. Suddenly it clicks.

“Limbo? I’m in limbo?” He looks around again. “I guess it makes sense that limbo would be a kiss & cry.”

His heart stutters for a second as he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“Wait, is limbo like purgatory? Am I dead?” He can hear his own volume level increasing as he descends into a panic. “How can I be dead? Did I die by walking into Tessa’s linen closet?”

He can’t be dead. That doesn’t make any sense. He has too many things to do and questions left unanswered for him to be dead. Did the cat kill him? He didn’t even get to say goodbye to Tess!

He’s having a hard time focusing, or breathing and he’s beginning to feel lightheaded when he feels the sting of a firm slap across the back of his head. 

“Ow!” He cringes and glares at Skippy as he clutches at his now smarting scalp. “What was that for? Isn’t a dead man allowed to panic?”

Skippy rolls his eyes in a way that says he feels Scott is being far too dramatic for the current circumstances.

“Am I not dead?” 

Skippy shakes his head, once more indicating that he finds the very concept ridiculous. He grabs onto Scott’s elbow and pulls him towards the limbo bar, gesturing for him to follow as he dances underneath it. 

Scott shrugs before deciding to shimmy along. It’s not like he has much more to lose at this point. He’s never been great at charades, so all he can hope for is that someone on the other side will be able to speak and answer his many, many questions.

———

When they emerge from beneath the bar and the shroud of surrounding fog, Skippy takes his arm and guides him towards wall of deep red velvet curtains. A clap of thunder sounds, announcing their arrival, and Scott jolts as the curtains before them part without any assistance.

Skippy leads him into one of the most opulent rooms he has ever seen, and he’s been to some pretty swanky places over the course of his career. The carpet feels plush beneath his feet as he slowly turns in a circle to take it all in, forgetting his concerns in favour of admiring the decadence before him.

The walls are draped in a continuation of the same rich velvet as the curtains they entered through and a silver crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling marking the centre of the room. There is remarkably little furniture present, just a scattering of large arm chairs and jewel tone floor pillows around the perimeter. 

They naturally draw his eyes towards a marble dais at the end of the room, where he can see a woman elegantly stretched out on a dazzling chaise lounge. He’s pretty sure the thing must be encrusted in real diamonds, but more importantly, he is certain he recognises the woman atop it. 

Her back is turned to them, but Scott would know that petite frame and brunette hair anywhere, be it a dingy hockey rink at the crack of dawn or in towering heels at a red carpet event, or in this case, a mysterious land where magic seems to a second nature to everyone but him.

He takes a step towards the platform, feeling emboldened by the familiarity of the figure before him.

“Meryl Davis, fancy seeing you here!”

Meryl rises from the chaise, glimmering robes of white silk floating delicately around her as she turns to address her audience. She raises a single eyebrow, lips pursed as she seems to assess his appearance and Scott takes note of the diamond diadem gracing the crown of her head.

“That’s M’Lady to you.” She fixes him with a piercing stare and he almost feels inclined to kneel before her until her gaze shifts elsewhere. The slight hint of disgust in her tone is not lost on him as she addresses his companion.

“Skippy, what have you brought me this time?”

He watches as Skippy recounts their meeting through mime, indicating that he found Scott lost in Limbo, but not getting across much more than that. 

Meryl lets out an exasperated sigh. “Really Skippy, you can’t keep bringing home strays! Think about what happened to the last one - you forgot to feed him and he died!”

A queasy feeling settles itself in Scott’s stomach, but he pastes on what he hopes is a charming smile and interjects anyway.

“Excuse me, but I’m not a stray! My name is Scott Moir and I’m just a little lost. I was actually hoping you could tell me where I am and how to get back to where I came from.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Scott,” Meryl meets his smile with one as dazzling as her tiara. “How did you get here in the first place? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m not really sure… I was searching in my friend Tessa’s linen closet for a towel when the door slammed and the next thing I knew I was here. I think maybe her cat caused it…” He sees a flash of recognition in her eyes, and barrels on with his question before she can interrupt. “Where exactly is ‘here’ anyway?”

“You are in The Other Realm. Surely you’ve heard of it?” 

Scott shakes his head, the uneasy feeling of distrust only deepening when he sees Meryl’s smile grow wider than the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Well in that case, it is my honour to welcome a young warlock such as yourself to our land for the first time! My name is Lady Meryl Davis, Head of the Witches Council. Although I presume that as you recognised me, you must already know this…”

Scott swallows hard as he tries to formulate a coherent answer. He decides to skip over the part where he mistook her for another Meryl and to hope that honestly really is the best policy.

“I’m not a warlock, I’m just... a mortal? Before today I had no idea that witches or talking cats existed, never mind an entirely different magical realm. It’s all been a little overwhelming and I’ve been questioning if maybe it’s just a fever dream, except I can’t make myself wake up!”

He pinches himself hard one more time to demonstrate his point, and he hears Meryl stifle a chuckle as he closes his eyes. He blinks them open to find that she’s descended from her dais to stand before him. He’s taken aback to discover that this Meryl is taller than the one in the real world, being able to look him squarely in the eye as she extends her hand to feel his forehead for a fever. 

“Oh, you are a bit warm! All this magic must have come as such a shock to you…” She retracts her hand and makes a sweeping gesture towards the seating on the side of the room. “Would you like something to eat or drink? Or perhaps a nap?”

Meryl snaps her fingers twice and a cart wheels itself out from hidden alcove (or maybe just out of thin air), piled high with sweets and a steaming pot of tea. It all looks very tempting, but as Scott settles onto one of the massive floor cushions, he finds the idea of a nap is even more appealing.

He lets out a yawn, barely managing to conceal it with his hands and he catches Meryl smirking out of the corner of his eye.

“A nap–“ He’s interrupted by another yawn. “A nap sounds wonderful right now.”

“Please, make yourself at home. Skippy or I will be here, if you wake up.” 

There’s something slightly sinister in her tone, but Scott can’t muster the energy to examine it any further. He snuggles deeper into the pillows, which somehow feel more comfortable than any mattress he’s ever slept on, and allows himself to drift into a deep, deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t leave Scott in limbo for much longer so SURPRISE!
> 
> I had intended on finishing this in the next week, but I’m starting a new job and attending RTR soooo... I’ll be back after all that!


	4. Rules are Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps microphone*  
Is this thing still on? Is anyone even out there?  
*cringes at feedback*
> 
> A lot of Life happened in the last two months (RTR, moving, a new job) and now it’s no longer Spooky season, but I hope all three of you are still game for me to finish this.
> 
> Big love to Boo for all your encouragement, and a shoutout to C, whose first question upon meeting was “when are YOU going to post your next chapter?” Ta da! Here it is!

Tessa arrives in limbo with a thud. She lands on her feet, which is more than can be said for her previous attempts, but she still stumbles for more than a few steps before regaining her balance. She really wishes she’d been practical when choosing her formal witch’s attire - the heels were not a wise decision, no matter how great they make her legs look in these pants. 

Glancing around, she lets out an amused snort. Scott has definitely been here. No one else would conjure up this unnerving Kiss and Cry as their version of Limbo. The only thing missing is a giant mascot, she muses. Unless there is one and he’s hiding from it...

“Scott?” She tries calling out. “Scott, are you here?”

There’s no answer, and she can’t see anywhere that he could feasibly be hiding. She peers behind the chairs, as well as around a few floral displays, then she sees a familiar head peeking out from beneath the limbo bar.

“Skippy! Have you seen Scott?” 

Skippy nods, gesturing for her to follow as he disappears back into the purple mist. Gathering her sleeves in her hands, Tessa artfully shimmies her way after him, hoping that Scott can be easily retrieved from whatever awaits on the other side of the bar. 

When she emerges in her new location, Skippy takes her arm, guiding her towards a small opening in a set of plush velvet curtains. A deep sense of unease settles over her as he presses a single finger to his lips before slipping sideways through the gap, in what appears to be a well practiced manoeuvre. His hand reappears, palm facing towards her as he waves for her to stop and wait. When she gets a thumbs up, Tessa slides through the gap with as much stealth as she can muster and finds herself in the opulent chambers of the Witches Council.

She sees Scott immediately. He appears to be peacefully sleeping, nestled in a giant pile of floor cushions a few feet away. He’s emitting contented little snuffling noises in place of the monstrous snoring that usually accompanies this type of cold and he nuzzles even deeper into the pillows as she approaches. 

“Scott!” Tessa whispers at first, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Scott, wake up! We need to leave!” She brings her lips very close to his ear, whispering as loud as she dares and shaking him lightly. “Now! Get up!”

Scott mumbles incoherently and rolls over, a pleasant smile flitting across his face as he settles back down and Tessa lets out a frustrated huff, shaking his shoulder more vigorously this time as she hisses. “Scott Patrick Moir, WAKE UP!” 

“That won’t work, you know…”

The voice behind her sends a chill up her spine and Tessa stands, turning to greet the owner with as much confidence as she can muster given the current circumstances.

“Meryl.” 

“Tessa. And it’s M’Lady to you…”

Tessa resists the urge to roll her eyes. She needs to keep Meryl on her side and talking if she wants answers to her many questions. 

“Well, M’lady,” (she can’t resist the opportunity to mock curtsey though), “would you care to explain to me why my partner here won’t wake up?”

“That’s simple. He is under a sleeping spell.” Meryl casts a glance down at Scott, who is now audibly snoring. “Poor dear. He was so sick, it seemed like he could really use the rest. I would wake him up, but…”

She pauses, a sickly sweet yet somehow sinister grin taking over her face. 

“But?” Tessa prompts her to continue, even though she’s certain she won’t like the answer. 

“But then I would have to wipe his memory.”

“What? Why?” Tessa feels the unease from earlier shifting into outright fear, but she still needs more information. “Why would you need to do that?

“Well it was that or turn him into a centipede. The rules are very clear about what happens when a Mortal crosses into this realm.” She shrugs nonchalantly, as though this is an everyday occurrence for her. 

“Rules? What rules? I want to see these rules!” Tessa demands. If anyone can find a way to understand and follow the rules, it’s going to be a woman who’s made an art of it for the past twenty-two years. 

“Fine!” Meryl turns to call over her shoulder. “Oh Rule Bearer!”

Notes of a regal fanfare blast through the air and the Rule Bearer enters the room at a brisk walk. He’s dressed in the cavelier style of the Baroque period, sporting a high-waisted jacket and trousers in pale yellow with white lace at the collars and cuffs. A large scroll is tucked under his arm and his blonde hair is flopping about wildly beneath a cap that someone has unsuccessfully tried to cram on top of his head. He bows slightly towards towards Meryl before stepping onto the platform beside her. 

“Hear ye, hear ye! The Rules of the Realm!” 

He opens the scroll and begins reading. 

“Rule Number One - No Spitting.

Rule Number Two - All witches must eat their carrots.

Rule Number Three - Bats may not be kept as pets.

Rule Number Four - Not using double negatives will be disallowed.

Rule Number Five - All children under ten must be accompanied by a monkey.

Rule Number Six - Giants must wipe their–“

Meryl interrupts in a chastising tone. 

“Okay okay! Charles, please, just skip to the part about Mortals.” 

In response, Charles maintains eye contact with her as he allows the bottom of the scroll to clatter to the floor before rifling through it with a dramatic flair that has Tessa struggling to suppress a chuckle despite the rising sense of panic that threatens to flood her senses. He clears his throat. 

“Rule Number 714 - Any Mortal who passes into this realm shall have their memory wiped, or, be turned into a creepy crawly thing.”

“See?” Meryl smiles at her once again. “Rules are rules. I can wake your partner up, but there will be consequences. The decision is yours to make.”

The idea of having to return Scott to his family and their world without any of his memories makes Tessa feel sick to her stomach with loss. She shakes her head at Meryl.

“No, not right now. Could I have some time to think about it?”

“Certainly.” Meryl turns to dismiss the other members of her party, nodding at each of them in turn. “Thank you Skippy, Charles, your services are not required for the time being. You may leave.”

Tessa watches the men slip back through the gap in the curtain as she sinks to the floor beside Scott. She runs her fingers through his hair once as he lets out a loud snore, more to ground herself than anything else. Meryl cocks her head in question, but seems to think better of whatever she wants to ask. 

“Take all the time you need. I will be in my chambers when you have made your decision.” With that, Meryl leaves them alone. 

Tessa isn’t usually one to allow herself to wallow, but she thinks that given the events of today, she’s earned the right to fall apart for a few minutes. She shuffles down so that she’s laying face to face with Scott, interlaces her fingers with his, and focuses on matching him breath for breath. She was hoping that it would have the same calming effect as their usual hugs, but instead she feels the tears that have been pooling in the corners of her eyes begin to slip one by one down the slopes of her cheeks. 

“Oh Scott,” she sighs. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

He pulls her hand closer to his chest and while she knows it’s not a conscious response, it makes her smile nonetheless.

“I guess my secret is out isn’t it? Surprise! I’m a witch! Or at least, I have been since I inherited the house. I wanted to tell you so badly, but you heard Meryl - rules are rules!” She rolls her eyes, fully aware that he can’t see her. She’s not even sure he can hear her, but she continues anyway. “I’m pretty sure you guessed already, but Salem isn’t a cat either. He was a witch who got caught trying to take over the world. His punishment is to spend 100 years as a cat, but if we get out here in one piece I will make sure it is infinitely longer than that!”

Keeping one hand intertwined with his, she reaches out to smooth away the quizzical wrinkles that had formed between Scott’s brows. She allows her fingers drift down the side of his face, gently cups his jaw and almost instinctively he leans into. 

“Not if. I shouldn't have said if. When we get out of here, with your memories fully intact, I will make sure Salem pays with the appropriate amount of jail time. I refuse to accept anything less, because I’m not spending the rest of my life trying to fill in a 32 year gap in your memory!” 

“Pssssst!” 

Tessa sits up, wiping away the streaking tears still left on her face as she sees Charles approaching. 

“Quit your crying!” 

She lets out a choked approximation of a laugh.

“No actually. I’m off duty but,” he switches to his professional crier voice, “Rule Number 555 - No blubbering!”

Tessa lets out a real laugh this time. “These rules! Are they all this ridiculous?”

Charles joins her on the floor, crossing his legs and removing his cap. 

“I’m very sorry about Scott. Personally I think Rule Number 714 is really outdated, but yes, a lot of them are as ludicrous as them seem.”

“I don’t understand. How can wiping his memory or turning him into a bug be the only solutions?”

“Well,” Charles checks over his shoulder before whispering. “You could find a loophole…” 

Tessa lowers he voice in response. “There are loopholes?”

He nudges the scroll towards her and points. Tessa reads it out loud.

“Rule Number 803 - For every rule there is a loophole!” Something that feels like hope takes root in her heart. “So I just need to find a loophole that applies to this situation?”

Charles nods, standing to leave. “But you didn’t hear that from me!”

He winks before exiting through the curtain once more, leaving Tessa unattended with his scroll. She pours over it furiously, looking for that one detail that could get them out of this mess. She is meticulous in her search, each passing minute stretching out like an hour as she tries to find something that might work. 

Scott stays slumbering peacefully beside her, mumbling under his breath every so often. Tessa is almost to the end of the scroll when she hears him say something that sounds an awful lot like “what a weird dream…” 

“That’s it!” She snaps her fingers, causing the scroll to unfurl itself back to an earlier loophole. She calls out, summoning Meryl, Charles and Skippy back to the room. “M’lady!”

She jumps to her feet, scroll in hand as Meryl descends from her chambers. 

“Have you made your decision then?” 

“Yes!”

“What shall it be? Memory wipe, or a creepy crawly insect you can keep as a pet? If you pick that option, I’ll throw in a jar for free!”

“A jar is no home for any form of creature,” Tessa frowns. “My answer is neither.”

“Neither? That’s not an option my dear–” Meryl is cut short as Tessa thrusts the scroll in front of her. 

“Mortals without conscious knowledge of the realm may pass in and out of it freely.” Meryl reads the scroll out loud.

“Loophole!” Tessa exlaims, confident she has the ability to make this work, provided she’s given the chance.

There’s a smug look on Meryl’s face as she responds. “But he already has conscious knowledge of the realm. He came here on his own accord…”

“That second part is debatable. I’m fairly certain Salem Saberhagen sent him here intentionally.” Meryl lets out an exasperated sigh, but Tessa barrels on. “I’m proposing we remove the conscious part…”

“You want to knock him out?” Charles asks, looking increasingly confused.

“No, I want to convince him that this entire experience has been a dream. If I can do that, he should be allowed to leave with his memories intact.”

Meryl looks at Charles, who reads over the scroll and shrugs. “Rules are rules, but loopholes are loopholes! If she is successful, he should be permitted to return to the mortal realm.”

“Fine. This will never work, but I wish you all the best in trying.” 

Meryl extends her hand for Tessa to shake. As their palms make contact, a buzz of electricity fills the room and the agreement is sealed. 

“I will lift the sleeping spell whenever you are ready to begin.” Meryl ascends the stairs to the council dais, taking a seat on her chaise. Skippy and Charles follow, but stand off to the side instead. 

Tessa takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and focuses on the warmth of the magic burning inside of her. She draws upon all the memories she’s made with Scott over the years. The good, the bad, the goals conquered, the highs and lows, the stuff that dreams (and nightmares) are made of, every single one is a grain of rice filling up her bucket, ready for her to use to her advantage. When she opens her eyes, it’s with a fiery determination and the confidence of someone prepared to conquer any impossible task set before her. 

She nods. Meryl snaps her fingers, and Scott yawns, slowly rising from his nest of cushions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, she’s a cliffhanger!
> 
> Love it? Dislike it? Want to yell at me for taking too long? Tell me about it! 
> 
> This chapter quotes rules and some minor dialogue directly from Sabrina the Teenage Witch S1 E13, “Jenny’s Non-Dream.” Credits to the writers for actually being funny when I am not.


	5. Is This Real Life? Is This Just Fantasy?

Scott wakes up slowly, a large yawn escaping as he stretches in place, joints creaking from being stationary for so long. The throbbing in his head has thankfully subsided, but his limbs still feel heavy with the temptation of sleep. He’s cozy enough that for a moment he contemplates pulling the covers over his head and returning to the very pleasant dream he was having. Then he registers the dim murmuring of voices behind him and the unfamiliar ruffled texture of the pillow pressed against his cheek. He is definitely not in his own bed...

He jolts upright as the events of his accidental adventure come crashing back to him, a cold wave of panic ensuing. He’s not sure how long he was asleep, nor can he recall why he chose to take a nap here in the first place, all he knows is that he needs to get home to Tessa before this situation gets any crazier.

That is, until he turns and finds the very person he was worried about standing a several feet away from him.

“Tessa?” He blinks a few times and then rubs his eyes for good measure.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Tessa gives him a soft smile as she kneels down in front of him.

She’s dressed in the same outfit he’d sworn she was wearing earlier when she’d answered her front door, the domineering mesh and leather combination a stark contrast to the concern currently etched across her face. 

“Uh, my head isn’t hurting anymore, but… is it really you T? You’re not going to turn around and tell me that your real name is Vicky Vice and you’re the villain here, right?”

Tessa chuckles, then reaches for both of his hands to pull him up. “Nope, no alter egos here. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me kiddo.” 

She wraps him up in a hug as soon as he’s standing and he allows himself to sink into the comforting familiarity of her embrace, automatically closing his eyes. It’s second nature for their breathing to fall into sync and as he calms down he can’t help but whisper into her ear. 

“I’m so glad you’re here Tess. Not that I know where ‘here’ is, but it’s been really freaking weird up until this point. I thought maybe I was dreaming… Meryl is here and I think she might be evil but I haven’t seen–“

Tessa pats him on the back as she starts to pull away and when Scott opens his eyes, it seems they’re no longer in the throne room.

“Charlie!” He spots his friend standing next to Meryl, sporting an eerily familiar purple and black bedazzled costume. He takes a step in their direction, only to stumble as his balance shifts drastically because there are skates on his feet? 

“Tess, what’s happening?” She’s pulling him by the arm now, away from their opponents at the closest thing to a jog that she can manage in skates.

“Hurry up Scott, we’re going to be late!”

“Late? Late for what exactly? Where are we going?”

Tessa doesn’t answer him, just tugs for him to follow her faster. They continue running down a long, dark corridor, and he can hear a cheering crowd at the other end. He skids to a halt when he catches the pink crystals of her dress sparkling against his own billowing shirt sleeve, overcome with nausea as his brain translates the chanting in the distance from gibberish into recognisable Russian. 

“Are we in Sochi? Is this the free dance?” He blanches at the thought of having to skate Seasons. Tessa pauses in front of him just long enough to turn and throw him a bone chilling glare over her shoulder. 

“Yes! Now hurry up or we’re going to miss our warm up group, then we’ll be disqualified and the torture of this whole quad will have been a waste!”

“Tess, I don’t know the choreography, I can’t remember this program. It’s been too long!” He runs a hand through his hair in distress, a cold sweat breaking out as he tries desperately to remember something, anything from their 2014 Olympic performance. 

“What do you mean you can’t remember it? Did you hit your head while I wasn’t looking? Are you suffering from amnesia? Because that’s the only logical explanation for you forgetting a program we’ve been working on every day for the past six months!” 

She wrenches his hand out of his hair, and pulls him once more towards the doors, but he drops to the floor and refuses to budge.

“T, please, I’m serious.” He is not above begging on his knees. “If we go out there we’ll just make fools out of ourselves and our career. I could never let you down like that. I don’t want to let you down. It’s my worst nightmare!” 

“Are you certain about that?” 

He nods vigorously, trying to blink back the tears that threaten to take over.

“Because I’m pretty sure your worst nightmare is actually right behind you…”

Scott hears a loud snap, followed by a stampede of rapidly approaching footsteps. He whips his head around to look, and it really is his ultimate nightmare come true.

Barreling towards them is a swarm of angry mascots. He spies Quatchi, Soohorang, Stanford Tree and Wild Wing at the front of the pack. They’re hot on the heels of Gritty, who is brandishing a hockey stick over his head in a menacing manner as he chases after Carlton the Bear. Scott feels a flash of sympathy for Carlton, whom he can almost tolerate these days. That’s quickly dashed when he hears a cry of “there’s the mascot hater, get him!” from the bear, directing the attention of the enraged mass to him instead.

Impending free dance of doom momentarily forgotten, Scott lunges past Tessa in the direction of the doors. She follows as he picks up the pace again, their skates mysteriously traded for sneakers. They run and run and run and run, but the mascots just keep getting closer and the doors still seem as far away as when they started this sprint. His chest is heaving, his heartbeat is ringing in his ears and he’s really beginning to regret not including more cardio in his workouts. Meanwhile, Tessa is jogging serenely beside him and she hasn’t even broken a sweat…

She makes eye contact and nods towards the doors, which are somehow directly in front of them even though he was sure they were miles away only moments ago.

“Go ahead and find a hiding spot, I’ll buffer as usual!”

Scott doesn’t need to be told twice and promptly shoulder checks his way through the door closest to him. As he enters the arena, the crowd roars with excitement, except it isn’t the Iceberg Skating Palace laid out before him. Instead the stands are filled with familiar shades of blue and white, the smell of sweat and stale beer mixing together with the cool air, and the logo of his beloved Toronto Maple Leafs glimmering at him from centre ice. 

“Hurry up Moir, we have a cup to win!” John Tavares slaps him on the shoulder and thrusts a stick into his hand. Only then does Scott register that he’s fully decked out in hockey gear, complete with a Leafs jersey where the A graces his chest. Is he dreaming? He must be dreaming if he’s good enough to be assistant captain...

His teammates huddle up as Babsy approaches and he has to remind himself to breath several times through their pep talk. The Leafs are up by two points when they take to the ice for the final period, but that doesn’t last long as their opponents score twice to even things out. 

It’s down to the last minute and Scott feels like he’s on fire as his line leaps over the boards to join the fray. They’re on the defensive, but the puck slips loose and he manages to snag it. Adrenaline surges as he hustles on a break away, deking around a defenseman and tucking the puck neatly away in the top corner of the net just before the buzzer sounds. 

His teammates tackle him in celebration as the crowd erupts and confetti streams from the ceiling. Scott gets to hoist the cup in victory, something he’d never thought would happen, before their families are invited onto the ice to join in the merriment. His brothers immediately wrestle him into a headlock, before releasing him to greet Alma and Joe, both of whom have tears in their eyes. He’s wrapped up in his parents’ arms and radiating pure happiness, but he can’t help feeling that something, or someone, is missing from the picture. 

As if summoned, the crowd parts before him and Tessa appears, a vision in silver and white. He doesn’t think to question why she has skates on her feet, just sweeps her up into his arms and holds on tight. He spins her around several times before setting her down on the ice and she stays resting in his embrace. Eyes bright with tears, she reaches up to brush a stray clump of hair out of his face. 

“I’m so proud of you Scott! This must be a dream come true–“

“GET MARRIED!!!”

Scott can feel himself blushing deep red as Tessa collapses in a fit of giggles against his chest. He has half a mind to flip off whichever teammate is responsible for the heckling, but before he can react he sees Tessa slipping towards one knee in front of him. His heart leaps into his throat as he pulls her up, nervous laughter escaping from around it as he hugs her once more.

“You know, this has happened in my dreams before...”

“Oh?” Tessa counters, pulling away, “then what happens next?”

He blushes again as he cups the side of her face, tilting her chin up ever so slightly as he brings their foreheads together and whispers.

“Usually, something like this.”

Scott quickly closes the gap between them, joining their lips together. It’s soft and chaste, and he kisses her one, two, three times before Tessa responds. Her hand snakes up the back of his neck and into his hair as she pulls him to deeper into the next kiss, the rest of the world melting away as he focuses entirely on what it feels like to finally have this moment with this woman that he loves in so many ways.

Eventually, they’re forced to pull apart for air and he can’t wipe the dazed smile from his face, nor can he stop the thoughts that escape without his permission.

“This is so much better than all my other dreams!” He blanches a bit as he recalls getting lost in limbo and the mascots chasing him. “Except that first part, that was awful.”

Tessa takes a small step backwards, but keeps their hands joined. “Perhaps it’s best to end it here then, before it has a chance to turn sour…”

Scott ponders this for a moment. “How do I wake up when this all feels so real?” 

She squeezes his hands as she motions for him to sit next to her on a cushioned bench. “I guess you have to go back to sleep?”

“I mean, I am kind of tired. That was a lot of skating and running and skating and kissing. Even for a dream ” 

He smirks, but it cracks into a yawn and he finds himself leaning heavily into Tessa’s shoulder. Scott feels her chuckle more than he hears it, her arms wrapping around him to guide his head onto her lap. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” She muses. Her fingers are combing through his hair now and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He opens his mouth to tell her that it was all good in the end, and that maybe they should kiss more often, but instead what comes out is a very loud yawn.

“Go to sleep Scott.” She soothes, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Scott thinks he’s heard that once before, but who is he to resist the power of suggestion when it comes to Tessa Virtue? He hums in response and allows himself to drift into blissful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I have apologised in advance for squeezing as many cracky fandom references into this chapter as I could? Maybe...
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! If you want to find me elsewhere, I’m on Twitter/Tumblr as soshedances18!


	6. A Wake Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternative title for this fic should’ve been “WAKE UP!”  
Both as an homage to the iconic hockey game and because of the number of times I’ve yelled it while writing.
> 
> This chapter is for Boo, who early on in my brainstorming process exclaimed: “Imagine all the havoc Salem could wreak with modern technology!”
> 
> ANYWHO, Thank you to all 5 of you who stuck around – the end is finally here!

Tessa crumples against the wall as Scott’s snoring becomes audible once more. His soft snuffling from earlier is replaced with something akin to the erratic buzz of a chainsaw, its familiarity grounding her. She’s sorely tempted to join him in slumber, the exhaustion of having pushed her newfound powers to the limits weighing on both her limbs and her mind, but they’re not out of danger yet. Not until Meryl’s end of the bargain is upheld and they’re far removed from The Other Realm.

Keeping one hand stroking through Scott’s hair, she glances over at the throne room dais, trying to gage how well their performance has been received. Skippy is staring at them with his head cocked, an incredulous expression on his face and what looks like a question on his lips that she’s sure she doesn’t want to answer.

_(You two pining idiots STILL haven’t figured it out? Even in retirement? Even after all these years?) _

Charles’ smile is blinding, and he nods when she makes eye contact over Meryl’s shoulder, as if to say he’s certain that invoking the loophole has been a success. By contrast, she’s never seen Meryl look so betrayed, so outraged. She storms towards them, skirts flying about as she screeches with increasing volume.

“Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!”

Scott just snores even louder in response as the three others simultaneously shush her. Charles smirks, unravelling his scroll as ceremonial fanfare fills the air.

“M’lady, need I remind you?” he clears his throat before switching to his official tone, “Rule Number 42 - Let sleeping mortals lay.”

Meryl huffs and stomps her foot like a small child. She fixes Tessa with a piercing stare, and a shiver runs down her spine in fear of retaliation. 

“Fine. You win this one Tessa, but you’d better leave before I change my mind!”

Tessa nods, her mind racing as she tries to figure out the quickest way to make an exit with Scott in tow. She’s strong enough to carry him, but she ultimately decides to call upon her powers instead.

With a snap of her fingers, a still sleeping Scott levitates out of her lap, allowing Tessa to stand. 

“Thank you, M’lady.” She bobs into a curtsey, while Skippy and Charles rush to part the curtains so that she can exit unimpeded with a floating Scott beside her. The curtains flutter closed behind them and she hears the bounce of springs as Meryl flings herself onto her chaise, followed by what sounds like a muffled scream into one of the many decorative pillows. 

Once they’re all back in Limbo, she hugs both Skippy and Charles, thanking them profusely for their help. Then, without any further fanfare, she tugs Scott through the heavy purple mist and back to the real world.

\- - -

Tessa successfully navigates their exit from the linen closet without waking Scott, but is then faced with the dilemma as to where to put him until he wakes up. She settles on the bed of the closest guest room, remembering that she still has Salem and his mess to deal with downstairs. It will be more comfortable than the couch anyway, she’ll just have to exercise a little extra creativity to explain how he got there. 

Ensuring Scott is comfortably tucked under the covers, Tessa tiptoes from the room and pulls the door closed behind her. She can still hear his raucous snoring as she makes her way down the stairs, but takes it as a grateful reminder that he’s here, safe and with his memories intact. 

As she hits the landing, another noise enters the din. A low moan of pain that makes her refocus on the task at hand.

“Salem?” She calls out. “Salem, where the hell are you?”

“In here!”

She follows another moan towards the kitchen, pausing to check on the mess in the living room, which thankfully hasn’t spread any further in the time she’s been gone. Padding around the corner, she’s stopped in her tracks as she takes in the scene before her.

Where there was one gently levitating pizza box upon her departure, there are now at least 50 more stacked around it. They tower on either side of the counter, a few emptied of their contents on the floor below. In the middle of them all, splayed out on the original box and looking several pounds heavier than when she left, is Salem.

“Tessa,” He drags out the ahh sound of her name, whining it as he calls for help. “Save me from myself!”

“Salem! What did you do? How did you get all this pizza?”

“Magic.”

“You don’t have magic! You’re a cat right now, not a warlock. Unless you also found a loophole in the rules?”

She tries to count how many boxes are still filled with food. There’s going to be leftovers for weeks, maybe months.

“How did you even get this much pizza? No wait, WHY did you get this much pizza? Did you honestly think you could eat all of it by yourself?”

“I was starving and pizza is the best, Tessa! Unless you eat too much of it.” Salem groans and tries to roll off of his stomach, but just ends up flopping back down on the spot. “I have no self control.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you got yourself into this mess!”

“I used the magic box.”

Magic box, magic box… Tessa wracks her brain trying to figure out what he could possibly mean. Not the television, she knows that much.

“The one with the name – Amanda? Alison? Alana? No… Alexa!”

As he speaks, the Amazon Echo lights up in the corner.

Tessa exhales a sigh of relief that there was no actual magic involved, but by the time she inhales she’s already plotting seven different ways she could murder this cat right now. She (or maybe Salem) is saved from any further harm when the doorbell rings upstairs. 

Salem’s head pops up from his pizza induced coma, a look of distress crossing his face.

“That wasn’t the front door…”

“Nope, it wasn’t!” Tessa singsongs, scooping him out of the pizza box. She’s grateful that his overindulgence has made him too tired to properly resist her. “That should be your parole officer.”

Salem gasps. “You called my parole officer? Over a pizza order?”

He squirms in her arms as they ascend the stairs, trying desperately to escape. 

“You shoved my best friend in a closet, spoke to him even though he was a mortal, sent him to The Other Realm and put us both in danger! All for the sake of pizza, I might add. Of course I called your parole officer!”

She opens the door to the linen closet, relieved to see that she was correct when a magical law enforcement officer greets her from the other side. 

Salem digs his claws into her shirt, tears at the sleeves as he pleads his case.

“Tessa, no! Please don’t do this! I like it here. I mean I know I just arrived but you’re so nice to me Tessa. I promise I’ll behave, I’ll never speak to Scott again. I’ll even finish eating all the pizza, just don’t make me go Tessa! Tessa!” 

His protestations continue, falling on dead ears as the officer eventually manages to detangle him from Tessa’s newly shredded sleeves.

“Thank you officer. Salem, have a nice life! I hope you enjoy the extended sentence!” 

With that she slams the door closed, listening for the crack of magic to indicate Salem has been transported back to The Other Realm. Tessa reopens the door just wide enough to peek in and confirm that he’s really gone, before she slides to the floor in front of it.

Exhaustion settles into her bones the longer she sits with her back pressed against the frame. There’s still the original mess to take care of downstairs, never mind the absurd piles of pizza or the tattered state of her clothing. Her mind is also buzzing with a million questions as it catches up to the day’s events and the feelings Scott had revealed while he thought he was dreaming. 

Tessa presses her fingers to her lips, a smile blooming beneath them as she recalls exactly how he had kissed her (and kissed her, and kissed her some more). It’s this memory that finally pulls her from the floor, keeps her flooded with warmth as she cleans off the table, replaces her couch cushions and packs away the pizza. What she needs more than anything is a good night’s rest and there’s only one place she wants to be when she falls asleep. 

She barely musters enough energy to brush her teeth and remove her makeup before slipping between the sheets. It’s far from the first time she’s slept in the same bed as Scott, but tonight she takes extra comfort in the dull roar of him snoring next to her, the uneven rhythm her lullaby as she drifts off to sleep.

\- - -

Scott wakes to what feels like the weight of the entire world pressing him into the mattress. Well, upon evaluation, maybe just the weight of his entire world. 

A sleeping Tessa is plastered to his back, one leg flung over his waist as she clings to him in what he likes to call her sleeping koala imitation (although usually it’s her body pillow that’s on the receiving end of this treatment). He can tell from her deep, even breathing that she’s still comfortably asleep and he’d like it if she remained that way long enough for him to figure out exactly how they landed in this situation. 

There’s early morning sunlight peeking through the cracks in the curtain, so they must’ve spent the night here. He’s still fully dressed (thank god he wore sweatpants), although it feels like Tess might be in her pyjamas if the amount of bare skin he can feel is anything to go by.

Biting back a groan and with it several dangerous thoughts, Scott buries his face into the pillow and tries to recall the events of the previous evening. He knows they didn’t drink — unless Tess spiked the tea she gave him? He dismisses that option, but no matter how hard he thinks, he still can’t get any further than spilling his tea on the coffee table. After that it all becomes blurry, seeming to merge with the vivid, yet unending dream that his subconscious conjured up to torture him. 

Trying his best not to disturb Tessa, he shifts slowly from his stomach to his side, a gentle hand supporting her ankle where it remains at his hip. He fully expects her to roll away as he eases onto his back, but instead she just snuggles in closer and pillows her head on his chest. 

Tessa nuzzles his pec with a contented little sigh and it’s possible his heart skips a few beats as he ponders the scene before him. In what universe does he wake up from a dream about making out with Tessa to find her cuddled up to him in bed? Is it possible that he died of a common cold and this is the afterlife? 

As if to prove him wrong, his immune system picks that exact moment to rustle up a sneeze. He manages to hold it in long enough to turn away from Tessa, but there’s no saving her from the noise once it escapes.

She scrambles awake, taking the sheets with her as he sneezes three times in rapid succession. Eyes watering, he fumbles blindly for a tissue on the nightstand as Tessa watches him, her expression not unlike a deer in the headlights. 

“Good Morning.” He offers a greeting, hoping it will pull her out of whatever rabbit-hole her brain is clearly spiraling down. Instead, It immediately alerts him to just how raspy his voice is — so much for the afterlife theory!

“Good Morning. Are you okay?” She gives him a shy smile, but the tension holding her shoulders hostage doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Well, I no longer feel like the seven dwarves are hammering away at my skull, but it appears they left Sleepy and Sneezy behind.” 

That earns him a proper laugh and his heart clenches in response. Even in the unknown of this ridiculous scenario, with bed head sticking up every which way and sleep crusted at the corners of her eyes, she’s still the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

He lets himself openly admire her for a moment (maybe Dopey stuck around too, he thinks), until he catches her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Tess?” He prods gently. 

She mumbles something incoherent, an increasing blush flaming across her cheeks. She glances at him quickly, and he tilts his head in question. She’s louder the second time.

“I’m sorry. It appears I invaded your personal space in the middle of the night and I apologise if I crossed a line or made you uncomfortable. I can leave–“

She starts to pull back the sheets, has one leg half way out of the bed before he catches her wrist and she freezes. 

“You don’t have to apologise.” 

“I don’t?” 

It’s no louder than a whisper, but her eyes snap up to meet his immediately.

“I think...” He pauses. “An apology would only be warranted if any of those things were true, which they aren’t.” He tugs lightly on her wrist. “Will you get back into bed so that we can talk about it?”

She acquiesces, sliding back under the covers and tucking herself into his side when he lifts his arm to offer her the space. They sit in silence for a moment, backs against the headboard but bodies still intertwined. They’ve always found challenging conversations a little bit easier when some part of them is touching.

He’s the first to break. 

“Actually, one of those things is true.” He feels her start to shrink away, but provides a reassuring squeeze, wordlessly asking her to hear him out. 

“You did invade my personal space, with a very convincing koala act I might add.” He winks and she emits a reluctant giggle in response. “But you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I might even be jealous of your body pillow now!”

She’s looking at him with something akin to hope in her eyes, and that, paired with the heady memories of his dream the night before, makes him brave enough to finally hurl them off this cliff. 

“Tess, can I be honest?” 

“Please…” It sounds like both a prayer and an admission.

He slides his hand from where it encases her wrist down to her fingertips, lifts them so that he can press a soft kiss to the back of her hand, holding her gaze as he continues.

“Waking up to you this morning was like every single one of my best dreams coming true.”

“Oh…” She breathes out.

“I would be perfectly content to spend every night with you wrapped around me tight, if it means that I get to spend my daylight hours by your side as well. Tess, I don’t want us to continue being crammed into whatever descriptive box fits best that day – skating partners or business partners or bandmates or best friends who see each other once a week for pizza. I want to be all of those things every day, and maybe one more.”

He knows he’s wearing the goofiest smile on his face right now, if only because it’s being reflected back at him by Tessa.

“One Moir eh?” She has the audacity to smirk at him when she says it.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, scratches at his jaw as he tries to remain nonchalant about it.

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe we could add boyfriend and girlfriend to that list. What do you say T? After 23 years, you wanna go steady?”

Tessa plucks his fingers away from his jaw, cradles it in her palm instead as his fingers instinctively slide into her hair.

“I think…” She’s so close now that he feels her answer on his skin more than he hears it. “That 23 years is more than enough time spent waiting.”

With that, she closes the remaining gap, her lips slotting between his with zero regard for morning breath or sharing germs. It feels like a memory and a homecoming all at once, but the best part is that she’s real, warm and solid in his arms as he gathers her into his lap. 

They spend the rest of the morning making excellent use of the space provided by the king-sized bed. Scott is thoroughly enjoying a very clever thing Tessa is doing to his neck, when a more urgent question strikes him.

“Hey Tess?” 

She hums her acknowledgement into the crook of his neck before working her way back up again.

“At the risk of sounding ungrateful and a little insane, how did we even end up in this bed in the first place?”

Tessa collapses into the pillow beside him in a fit of giggles.

“And uh, I might’ve made this up, but didn’t you have a cat? Why haven’t we seen him this morning?”

This just seems to make her laugh harder, but he waits it out.

“That,” she meets his gaze with a giddy smile, “is a very long story!”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, then snuggles down so that they’re face to face.

“Good thing we have all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me in the comments, or on most of the social medias as SoSheDances18!


End file.
